Shadows
by Corrinth
Summary: This is the direct sequel to Lamby's Open Your Eyes. After a storming row between the two mutants, Vixen and Blaze learn exactly how much words can hurt and confuse.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer : I own only Ilehana. Blaze belongs to Lamby.

A/N : This is the direct sequel and response to Lamby's 'Open Your Eyes' and Corrinth's last piece of work. It has taken months to write and much courage, or possibly stupidity, to decide to share it with you all.

**SHADOWS, CHAPTER ONE.**

#How do you even know there will be a next time Ilehana?#

Blaze slammed the door shut on their telepathic link and for a moment, the Vixen stood blinking in Cerebro. Stunned did not even begin to cover how she felt in that moment. Astounded by the force of the closure, stung by the vehemence displayed by the fiery redhead, the Vixen could think of nothing at all. Her mind was devoid of everything save a deep, defensive hurt. She stumbled from the great machine, her eyes watering as though she had been slapped about the face. She knew Gambit and Wolverine were waiting for her, Gambit's tense posture betrayed his question before it even began to form.

"She's fine." A tension headache was forming in the telepath's powerful mind, and she rubbed her nose in some vain attempt to dispel it. "Whatever crisis she had is over, I'm sure she'll be back as soon as she can get a cab."

"You don't know what upset her Cherie?" Gambit's tone betrayed his relief, his posture relaxing also.

"No." Ilehana had no wish to divulge her heated discussion with Blaze to the ex-thief's closest companion. Right now, all she wanted to do was get away from everything, and everyone, before herrage could hurt anyone else. Tension rising, the Vixen could feel the anger beginning to simmer beneath the surface as Blaze's words began to play over in her mind. "I have to get going, I'll see you both when I get back from Muir Island."

And with that she stalked away, not even hearing Logan's offer to walk her to the jet. Her blood pounded in her ears, heartbeat rapid, breath fast and shallow, fists balling as the sound of Blaze's voice grated repeatedly though the redhead's words would no longer form in the Vixen's head. It was just babble, angered and accusing tones, hot and hurtful like the fire Blaze created. The bright lights of the subterranean corridors blinded Ilehana even as the tears of wrath misted her eyes. She scrubbed them away viciously, not wanting to give in to such weakness. Rage tore through her like a bull, rage caused by the stream of manipulative guilt her so-called friend had fired at her. Throwing her small holdall at a bulkhead in the jet, hearing the Christmas gift for her father smash into tiny pieces in protest of its rough treatment did nothing to ease her anger. What had she done to so offend the fire-elemental save bury herself in her work? To take no more time for herself, for her father or her partner than for anyone else? She had her commitments to the scientific world, to her sponsors, the same as any of the other X-Men had their own responsibilities. Work did not stop because someone's world had fallen to pieces. And with a demanding partner - though Logan tried his hardest not to intrude upon her work, he always managed it – and father, constantly wanting her time and attention for this, that and everything under the sun, Ilehana was running around like a headless road-runner twenty-five/seven.

With its unseeing, wounded pilot at the helm, the X-jet lurched from the pad like a drunkard after a heavy night, leaping upwards before hovering ominously for a moment. The after-burners roared angrily as Ilehana threw them on, not caring a jot for the well-being of her vehicle. And she swore uselessly right back at them, simply to vent a little of the fury that seethed through her very being as she violently flicked the auto-pilot on. Reams of curses and foul language spilled forth from the Vixen, words that rarely passed the animorph's lips and would make her mother turn in her grave.

That thought brought everything in the Vixen's mind to a sudden halt. She remembered very little of her mother; images, sounds, smiles and cuddles. What she could recall was stale, cold, for her memories did not remember the life, the vitality that had made her real. Patience. She knew her mother had been the most patient person on the face of this earth, second only, perhaps, to her father. Charles blamed his daughter's temper on her mutation, for he swore that it came from neither parent. The thoughts of her parents, her mother in particular, brought swathes of sorrow over the Vixen – had she lost Blaze like she had lost her mother? Was she doomed to lose everyone she cared about?


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer : I own only Ilehana. Blaze belongs to Lamby.

A/N : This is the direct sequel to Lamby's 'Open Your Eyes' and Corrinth's last piece of work. It has taken months to write and much courage, or possibly stupidity, to decide to share it with you all.

**SHADOWS, CHAPTER TWO.**

The X-Jet set down in a field near the research centre with a distinct thump, making Charles Xavier frown. It was far from the norm, the ship usually slid gracefully to the floor without resistance. The door slid open but a moment later, and the steps lowered amid the whirring of the mechanism. The Professor waited with much impatience for the pilot to emerge. It had been but a few short weeks since he had last seen his daughter, nothing compared to their usual separations, but with Christmas being so close, Charles was looking forward to spending some real time with his closest relative.

But the person that stepped from the jet might as well have been a perfect stranger.

Her long blonde hair, pulled back into its trademark pony tail, was no longer shining and soft; it hung lank and greasy across one shoulder before she flicked it back. Her face was fraught with lines – tiredness and stress told their stories in the deep set frown on her face, in the way her body stooped beneath the weight of more than just the small holdall slung over one shoulder. Clothes that usually fit snugly to a lithe, muscled body hung loose and ill-fitted, as if they did not belong to Ilehana at all.

"My daughter…" Charles breathed as she walked the short distance towards him, her gait faltering a little on the uneven grass. Nothing had ever made her falter before.

"Hey Dad." She responded genuinely, so very pleased to see him but trying so hard not to notice the concern in his eyes. "You call and I obey, right?"

"Ilehana…"

"I'm kidding, Dad." She assured him softly, bending to give him a warm hug. "Now can we go inside please? It's cold out here."

The tone of her voice left Charles unsure as to whether his daughter was saying that she was cold, or if she was concerned for his health. Obediently, he turned his wheelchair to lead the way into the research centre. Tea was waiting for them, as was Moira McTaggart, the head of the research facility. Their questions – Xavier's polite inquiries into the state of the school, and Moira's queries into Ilehana's research and life since the two women had last met – were met with short, tired answers that gave very little information at all.

"Ach, but you must be tired after your long trip." Moira offered politely, after a long silence during which both Professor Xavier. "Let me show you to your room, Ilehana."

Vixen nodded gratefully, rising and lifting her bag with more care than was natural for the predator. To her father she offered a polite goodnight and a kiss on the cheek, and to his concerned telepathic questing she showed a carefully constructed barrier designed to discourage further probing. Not the usual irritated repelling of his telepathy, just a wall as much to keep her emotions in as to keep her father out. She followed Moira wearily from the lounge, up the main staircase and along the landing to one of the guest rooms. She completely failed to notice the little motherly touches that her hostess had left for her – the fresh heath-land wild flowers in a blue, glass vase on the windowsill, the white fluffy towels left on the radiator to warm, the dressing gown hanging on the back of the door to the en-suite shower-room. It was all Ilehana could do to wash her grubby face and fall onto the bed, too much effort even to move her bag from where she had dumped it on the pillow and crawl beneath the covers. Vixen curled herself into a ball and fell out of consciousness, spiralling down into sleep peppered by nightmares of the people she loved running away from her…


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer : I own only Ilehana. Blaze belongs to Lamby.

A/N : This is the direct sequel to Lamby's 'Open Your Eyes' and Corrinth's last piece of work. It has taken months to write and much courage, or possibly stupidity, to decide to share it with anyone.

**SHADOWS, CHAPTER THREE.**

If Charles had been concerned by his daughter's appearance the previous day, the lack of interest she showed in her appearance and appetite positively frightened him. Never had he known Ilehana to appear so dishevelled, as if she hadn't bothered even to glance in the mirror. What wolf-law had she once quoted to him? Something about washing daily from head to foot and not appearing unkempt. He couldn't remember the details. Yet here she sat opposite him, barely even picking at a full English breakfast – bacon, sausages, black pudding, mushrooms, hash browns, toast, scrambled eggs – looking as if she had just been pulled through a hedge backwards instead of climbing out of bed. The bottle of barbeque sauce that Moira had thoughtfully added to the table knowing her friend's love for it sat as untouched as the rest of Ilehana's breakfast. The only thing the Vixen showed any enthusiasm for was the coffee, which she drank three mugs of, very sweet and as black as night.

"I'm sorry." Charles offered softly when his only blood child had made her excuses and left the table.

"Not to worry, Charles." Moira replied with a reassuring smile. "She doesn't seem herself at all, does she?"

"Not at all." Concern ate at Xavier, what had happened to turn his daughter into nothing more than a shadow of her former self?

The grey wolf stood atop a grassy mound overlooking the wild, grey sea. Waves crashed upon the shore below her, water surging angrily back and forth as if the observer had deeply offended it simply by being there. Vixen stared out at the horizon, watching a flock of gulls in a V-formation. Their flight was as straight as an arrow, veering aside for nothing and no-one. Ilehana wished her life could be like that, simple and easy. Instead of being torn between so many commitments in her life – her father, Logan, her friends, her students, her research, the X-Men – as Vixen closed her eyes, she tried to remember the last time she had managed to snatch as much as a moment for herself and herself alone… but not a single instant in time sprang to mind.

Now that her anger was gone, Ilehana felt great swathes of guilt. Clearly, she had let Blaze down very badly, the fire-elemental couldn't have made that any clearer. But part of her was still frustrated by the whole situation – Blaze was one of her closest friends, knew Ilehana as well as anyone, knew her single-mindedness better than most. Why hadn't she simply told her the problem, given the Vixen no choice but to deal with it? The wolf shook her head, eyes still closed.

(How long have you been ill, Ilehana?)

In a moments lapse in concentration, Ilehana had let her barriers slip. Her father had managed to get past them to find the true source of the Vixen's weakness. Her instinctive reaction was denial, to draw away from his reaching – but the effort was too much and too futile to do so. (Long enough,) She answered bluntly, (long enough for me to not remember what being well feels like.)

(And you didn't think to tell me?) She felt his feeling of failure, the sense that he had let her down in some way so that she now did not trust him. (You know I would never…)

(I know.) She didn't need him to say the words, to tell her that he would never have called her out here if he had known, would never have sent her on that recon. mission three months ago if he had known she was ill. (Why do you think I didn't tell you?)

(I had thought that you might trust me…)

(My trust in you has never faltered. My pride is another matter. I could not bear to admit that my strength is less than perfect. My mind and body failed me when I needed them most…) She trailed off for a moment, then suddenly burst out (Dad, I'm so tired, and now Blaze is gone and it's all my fault…)

It was a child's plea for help, a terrified cry in the empty darkness, and Charles could almost feel the tears of shame, desperation, loneliness and self-loathing than issued forth from a wolf's eyes. Hot tears whipped away by the wind leaving only salt that stung the Vixen as she berated herself afresh for failing her friend. Instinct made him reach out and wrap her in a blanket of his love and support, and for the shortest time she accepted it, revelled in it, before pushing him away – as he had known all along that she would – to bury herself within her shell and punishing herself for her own misgivings and mistakes.

(Ilehana…) He begged her to let him back in, but her telepathic back was turned and she either would not or could not face him again.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer : I own only Ilehana. Blaze belongs to Lamby.

A/N : This is the direct sequel to Lamby's 'Open Your Eyes' and Corrinth's last piece of work. It has taken months to write and much courage, or possibly stupidity, to decide to share it with you all. Mild language... apologies.

**SHADOWS, CHAPTER FOUR.**

"Where are you going?"

Christmas past, and back in Westchester, home for barely a few hours, Ilehana turned to where an all-too-familiar voice addressed her from a darkened corner. Blaze – having returned home herself, though not as swiftly as the Vixen had predicted - had not been amongst those who had gathered to welcome the Xaviers home, but if the Vixen had been saddened or relieved by this, she had given no sign of it. Instead, she had allowed Logan to bear her from the hangar and up to her room. His strength had been most welcome, and though no words had passed between them, his touch had been full of a gentle intensity that had taken her breath away and only made this parting all the more hard to bear.

"Away." Vixen replied cautiously, her tone even and a little sad.

"Because of me?" Blaze stepped from the shadows of the darkened hallway, her rosebud lips contorted into a frown. Her brown eyes were cheerless, panicked, her fire-power sparkling in their depths. It saddened the Vixen that in that moment the two of them were so far apart that there could have been star-systems between them.

"Yes… and no. You know me by now, one inkling of pressure and I run. It's how I cope. After spending most of your life running, I would have thought that you of all people would understand."

"But what about Logan, the Professor…?"

"They'll believe that I'm going away for some R and R. It won't fall back on you."

"You really think I'm that selfish?" Blaze attacked roughly, angered by her companion's words. "My concern was for you, Vixen, and for them…"

"I know that." Ilehana sighed, slumping against the door-frame and letting herself slide into a sitting position, knees drawn up to her skeletal chest. Her time on Muir Island had been quiet, isolated, and she had eaten very little. She felt more tired in that moment than ever. Her abject misery was like a drug, sedating her and sapping all her strength. "I didn't mean it to sound that way."

"Well that's how it sounded. But you're the selfish one – for someone who's supposed to be loyal and strong, you spend an awful lot of time running!"

"Maybe I'm tired of being strong by hiding that I'm not." Vixen sniped back wearily. The words were barely audible, and the metamorph's face dropped into arms folded on her knees. Blaze stared down at the shell that had once been her friend, once so full of life and vitality that seemed to have all but faded away. Where was the woman who had stood by Blaze from the moment she had first been carried into the mansion, supported her through that first briefing and mission, and through so much more. Was this shadow all that was left? But Ilehana was speaking again, raising her head only enough for Blaze to hear her words, not to see her face. "Look, Blaze, I know I've been negligent of my friendships, but you know me by now – my work is my life, whether it is my science or the X-Men. I've always been straight with you about that. My responsibilities are my priority – they may not be straight forward like a home and kids, but they're still there."

It was a low barb, cheap and cutting, Blaze thought, but only if the Vixen knew the truth. Did she? But when Ilehana raised her head, the expression on her face was as unreadable as ever. Blaze was left wondering whether the Vixen knew about the daughter she had given up as the silence stretched out between them. Could she know? But it seemed that Ilehana was determined to plough her point through now that she'd got started, and Blaze listened politely. "I know I let you down, but I didn't realise how much it hurt. I'm telepathic, Blaze, not a mind reader."

"I thought they were one in the same." Blaze scoffed the words.

"Far from it. I choose when to open myself to people's thoughts. If you wanted my help, you should have asked – directly, so that there could be no misunderstanding. You masked it with pointless questions. Next time just tell me you need my help. If there is a next time."

The words were a challenge, though where the strength for such a challenge came from, Ilehana had no idea. The words spoke dozens more, telling Blaze that she was willing to try, but at the same time she would not be painted into a corner again. Enough hurts had been caused here, Ilehana had admitted her faults, shouldered the blame as Blaze had requested, but she would not take it all. She knew, even without her telepathy, that Blaze was taken aback by her words, and when no reply was issued, the Vixen sighed. Clambering to her feet, feeling every bone grate in hallowed and hard-used joints, a sad expression settled on the blonde's face.

"I'll see you Blaze." She reached for the door handle. "Take care."

"I needed your help." Ilehana was almost out of the door before Blaze uttered the words, so quietly that if it wasn't for a predator's hearing, Vixen might have missed them. Vixen let the silence reign for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, before stepping back inside and going to envelope the smaller woman in a warm hug.

"Tell me what happened." Ilehana offered, steering her friend toward the kitchen.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Vixen, after spending many hours talking with Blaze, came to doubt that things would ever be the same between them. She knew that somewhere deep inside themselves, a part of them would always remember this rift between them – Blaze because Ilehana had let her down so very badly, and the animorph because Blaze had doubted her loyalty. Would their friendship forever be a shadow of its former self? Vixen didn't think so, but it would take time for their joint wounds to heal. For many weeks afterward, Ilehana was morose and solitary, even Logan and her father pushed aside, trying to regain the health and vitality that had once been hers. Yet, she knew, in the long run, as many of the X-Men were fond of saying, what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, which – Ilehana was sure – Blaze would translate as "Shit happens". And the two of them had dragged their friendship through shadow and flame. Surely that, plus staring Death in the face and spitting at it at least once a month, could only make them stronger? Ilehana hoped so, for to lose such a valued friend… it was too painful even to consider.

A/N. If I'm honest, I know Blaze and Vixen would have found a much more dramatic way of making things up, but I couldn't find it in me to write it. I hated writing this, but Ilehana insisted. As my characters do from time to time. I'm off for a medicinal coffee… or maybe a beer… I'm all emotioned out now!


End file.
